This is in response to the Daily Post – Weekly Photo Challenge: On The Move
They will definitely be “On the Move”
There is a story behind the picture.
I am not sure I am ready to write about it yet.
Maybe another day.
He said he would love her forever and never grow tired of saying “l love you.”
It was all a misunderstanding.
He didn’t know the meaning of forever.
And he grew tired of alot of things.
I’m surrounded by death.
A boy only twenty one
He fought a long battle
But cancer won the war
A mother of three
Ovarian cancer of all things
In hospice right now
An only son
Married his love one week
Buried his mother the next
A man in his mid forties
Never sick, throws up blood
And is told he has six weeks
I’m surrounded by death
Cancer eats at my soul
Just as it consumed their bodies
As a participant in the Zero to Hero challenge my 11th task is to be a good neighbor, leave at least three comments and share some links you love with your readers.
I try to comment on posts that touch my emotions. Some make me laugh. Some make me cry. Some make me think. Some teach me. There is a variety of topics that can be found, an abundance of sites you can learn from and opinions on any subject matter can be found. I would call WordPress the Webster’s Dictionary of Life.
Today, instead of linking to those sites that I may have commented on I am choosing to pick one of my sites that has touched my heart.
We have never met. We have never emailed each other. We have never spoken. Yet I find myself thinking about her every day. Although the site isn’t what one would define as exciting, it is the epitome of what WordPress is all about. To be honest, I am not even sure how I stumbled upon it. She is someone in need. She is doing all the right things, therapy, medicine, religion, self-improvement, etc. but still cannot find the answers. Perhaps if she knew your story, or if knew she was not alone, it would lift her spirits. Sometimes people just need to hear different opinions or be exposed to different outlooks. Sometimes people just need a purpose. She is an awesome photographer and can be found at Anne F Kelly 62.
I don’t have a lot of followers, so I encourage people to re-blog my post, or to link her site on yours so others can contact her and perhaps enrich her life.
This post is inspired by this week’s DPchallenge: CLIFFHANGER
For this week’s challenge, write a post that will leave readers waiting for more. Breathless with anticipation. On the edges of the seats. Obsessively clicking “refresh,” waiting impatiently for the end of the story. We want to hear audible groans when readers reach the end of your post and see “To be continued…”
Not that I will never see you again
But that I will.
Not that I will never touch you again
But that I will.
Not that I will never kiss you again
But that I will.
Not that I will never hear your voice again
But that I will.
To be continued ….
It seems I’m at a loss for words
But I have so much to say
The days aren’t tough or easy
Not black or white but gray
You used to make me smile
Laughing about little things
But that was long before
You went and got your wings
Even though I cannot see you
I know that you’re around
I can feel you looking down on me
Though I cannot hear a sound
It’s only been two years Mom
But I so miss having you
To always see right through me
When I’m happy sad and blue
My life is a bit chaotic
Never knowing what to do
Tossing turning crying
I know you’ll see me through
I’m glad you are in heaven
What a wonderful place to be
I cannot wait to join you
Then I too will be set free
Until then know I love you
And I miss you everyday
I was once your little angel
Now my angel fly away
“I have had this horrible chest congestion I can’t get rid of. It seems to have gone to my ear now. I’m gonna go back to the doctor today”, Mom said.
“Well I have taken the day off work to run errands so why don’t we do lunch and I can take you to your appointment ?”, I replied.
“OK, that’d be good”, she wimpered.
I knew when she called me in the middle of the week that something was wrong. Mom was never sick and she rarely asked for help. And even though she didnt ask for help this time, it was her eager acceptance of my offer that had me concerned. I drove two hours to her cozy little home at the lake. She didn’t look well but it seemed to be more from stress than illness.
That was the beginning of her long journey home. Scans would later show that her chest congestion was stage four lung cancer. Chemotherapy started that very same day and continued weekly thereafter. Her life, our life, would never be same after that. During her treatment we had the time to talk about those things you never want to talk about. But the conversations were quite pleasant as Mom had no fear of dying. The cancer later moved to her brain and it was at that time I could tell her will to live was not for herself but for her children. We all gathered around her and assured her it was okay to rest. With a sigh of relief she did just that and joined Our Heavenly Father ten days later.
Mom was diagnosed in 2009 and passed away in 2011. Following her death I found a journal she had started about six months before her diagnosis. She knew something was wrong but didn’t want to worry the kids. Her struggle was unbearable at times. I wonder what would have happened has she worried us earlier. After all of this, to this day none of my brothers have stopped smoking. But even though Dad died from cirrhosis of the liver I continue to drink, so who am I to judge?
This post was inspired by this weeks writing challenge from the Daily Post: DIALOGUE
Inspired by Today’s Daily Prompt: My favorite toy
Being the youngest of five kids money was stretched pretty far. We didn’t really want for much but at the same time we didn’t really have much either. I was the baby and the only girl of us five siblings, so as luck would have it I was slightly spoiled. My brothers would argue about the word slightly that I use so loosely. Whatever boys, this is my story so I will remember things my way.
I recall having an imaginary friend that I treasured the most. His name was Jimmy Joe. Don’t ask me why he wasn’t a she named Sarah Sue, I’ve often wondered that and have never come up with an answer. We lived in very small town, Lake Village, Indiana. I used to play with Jimmy Joe in the dirt under our trailer home. One day Jimmy Joe got lost. I can remember my mom outside with me yelling and screaming frantically “Jimmy Joe where are you? Where are you Jimmy Joe?”. My mom must have really loved me or she was just plain crazy. We never found Jimmy Joe and I moved on to Weeble Wobbles.
I loved my Weeble Wobbles, what few I had. You know the song “weebles wobble but we don’t fall down”. How could you forget? One year my parents saved up enough money to get me a weeble wobble house for Christmas. That was the same year I found out Santa wasn’t real because me and one of my brothers had this bright idea to stay awake and watch Mom and Dad in the reflection of the fish tank while they “played Santa”.
The weeble wobble house was the coolest thing on earth. But thanks to my brothers we learned very quickly that the house couldn’t survive an explosion. You see, my brothers thought it would be funny to load it with firecrackers and set it on fire. I can still hear the explosion.
Yeah, not so funny. To my brothers, I thank you for taking the beatings from Dad for all of my wrong doings, for protecting the baby girl in the family. But you guys deserved that one. RIP Weeble Wobbles!
I know it hasn’t even been two years since your journey to Our Father in heaven, but some days it seems like a lifetime ago that we sat together and talked and laughed and cried as Mothers and Daughters do. I know we promised you that we would not drift apart from each other when you were gone, but being in Branson for our first family reunion without you is bittersweet. We hope to get together every other year on your birthday so we can celebrate your life and fulfill our promise to you. Maybe those of us who could not make it this year will make it in 2015. We all did our part in the kitchen, although none of us attempted to make your potato salad or baked beans. I don’t know, I just don’t think any of us are ready for that yet. I know you are happy. I hope that you are looking down on us with a proud heart and a tender smile. I need to keep this short, Mom. I miss you so much. The more I write, the more I long to hear your laughter and feel your hugs.
I love you,